The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,38

I asked.

“Not before the news came about Walther,” Bryn answered. “And then Father fell ill. Between Walther and Father, our mother is devastated. She doesn’t leave her room except to tend Father, but the physician says there’s nothing she can do, and asked her to stay away. He says her visits only agitate him.”

Berdi asked about the king’s health and Bryn said he was about the same, weak but stable. The physician said it was his heart, and with rest he would recover.

“You said you had news to share?” Gwyneth asked.

Bryn sighed and brushed his dark locks from his forehead. “The soldier who brought the news of Lia’s betrayal is dead.”

I gasped. “I heard he wasn’t injured. Only exhausted. How could this happen?”

“We don’t know for sure. We asked a hundred questions. All the physician said was that it was a seizure probably brought on by dehydration,” Regan answered.

“Dehydration?” Gwyneth mused. “He must have crossed a dozen streams and rivers to get here.”

“I know,” Regan said. “But he died before anyone could question him other than the Chancellor.”

Berdi’s eyes narrowed. “You think they lied about what the soldier told them?”

“What’s more important,” Gwyneth added, “is you think they had something to do with his death.”

Regan rubbed the side of his face, frustration evident in his eyes. “We’re not saying that. We’re just saying that a lot is happening, and fast, and there seem to be no answers for our questions. You need to be cautious until we get back.”

“Back?”

“That’s the other thing we need to tell you. We’re being dispatched to the City of Sacraments next week, and after we finish up there, my squad is going on to Gitos while Bryn’s goes to Cortenai. We’ll make stops at cities along the way.”

“You’re both leaving?” I said a bit too loudly, and Gwyneth cleared her throat as a warning reminder. I lowered my voice. “How is that possible with Walther dead and your father ill? You’re the crown prince now, and Bryn’s next in line. You can’t leave Civica. Protocol requires at least one of you—”

Bryn reached out and squeezed my hands. “These are hard times, Pauline. The foundations of Morrighan are shaken. The Lesser Kingdoms have seen the falling-out between us and Dalbreck; the crown prince has been butchered along with the sons of great nobles and lords; my father is ill, and my sister is presumed to have joined forces with the enemy. The Watch Captain says it’s not a time to hunker down and cower but to show our strength and confidence. It was decided by the cabinet. Regan and I questioned the order too, but my father confirmed this is what he wanted.”

“You spoke to him yourself?” Berdi asked.

Regan and Bryn looked at each other briefly, something unspoken passing between them. “Yes,” Regan answered. “He nodded affirmation when we questioned him on the order.”

“He’s not well!” Gwyneth said with disbelief. “He wasn’t thinking clearly. That will leave the throne at risk if he should take a turn for the worse.”

“The physician assured us it’s safe for us to leave, and as the Watch Captain said, nothing can bolster the confidence of the troops and neighboring kingdoms like the appearance of the king’s sons.”

I looked at Bryn and Regan, whose expressions were sending mixed messages. They were torn. This wasn’t just about restoring confidence. “It’s to prove that you’re still loyal to the crown, even if your sister isn’t.”

Regan nodded. “A divided family instills fear and anarchy. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

And there had been fear. In some ways their mission made sense, but it still felt wrong. I saw the worry in their eyes.

“You both still believe in Lia, don’t you?”

Bryn’s eyes softened. “You don’t need to ask, Pauline. We love our sister, and we know her. Please don’t worry. Trust us on this.”

There was something about the way he said it. Gwyenth noticed too. She eyed them suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

“No,” Regan said firmly. “Nothing else.” He looked down at my belly, barely disguised now by my loose cloak. “Promise us you’ll lie low. Stay away from the citadelle. We’ll return as soon as we can.”

Berdi, Gwyneth, and I exchanged glances, then nodded.

“Good,” Bryn said. “We’ll walk to the gate with you.”

The graveyard was nearly empty. Only a few mourners still lingered. The rest had returned to their homes to prepare for eventide remembrances. One young man, dressed in full warrior armor with his weapons at his sides, remained